"Don't talk?" he repeats, more than a tad bamboozled. So what point do dogs have, then? Do they just wander about generally like woolly, mute, disreputable carpets? No wonder there weren't any lying about in the old Enrichment Center.

He claps his hands together in very much a 'gathering oneself' fashion, all good and raring to go.

"Right, okay, moving, then." He bounces on the balls of his feet and by some miracle of physics does not immediately go sprawling. "All right and ready to do that. Moving. Straight ahead. One foot in front of the other. Walking."

His rate of nervous bouncing subtly increases.

"Got to, um, got to get the legs working, the feet, the big ol' linear step, eh? Just going toooooo - "

He inches forward, wobbling precariously, and, upon realizing he hasn't gone pitching over onto the ground again, nearly whoops with delight.

"Look at this!" He points gleefully at his feet, looking between them and Daine in a rapid back-and-forth. "Look at tiny Wheatley now, walking and moving about like a regular old human, how's that?"